


their (story, myth, legend)

by brightbedhead



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Kingdom, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Light Angst, Other, Sort Of, also I'm shit at writing fight scenes, and teefumz steals the show at the end, loafa is the villain, mentions of monke, mentions of the Dream Team, shit how does tagging work, well I mean I think it's light angst but someone literally dies so idk how much that counts for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28163709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightbedhead/pseuds/brightbedhead
Summary: She was a witch, they were poisoned, and he hated her fucking attitude.(Or: Val and Jello are outcasts who meet in the woods.)
Relationships: jello | jellomp4/val | val_kurry
Kudos: 4





	their (story, myth, legend)

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh this is kinda bad since I haven't written anything in like two months but,, oh fucking well I guess. can't win em all. (I rewrote this shit like five times hELP-) powered through it.
> 
> Thank you to val, jello, loafa, and teefumz for being amazing and talented and funny and just,, existing. I do feel like I made ya'll a bit out of character so please,, forgive me.  
> enjoy this silly little fic I speedran.

_Summer_

There was a tale told to children. A story, a myth, a legend, about a witch who lived in the forest, beloved by some, and hated by the rest. Those who dared to enter the woods were lured in by her beauty, her glorious melodies, and then pushed off the highest branch of a tree with a vine wrapped around their neck.

It wasn’t the most convenient time to think of this story, considering Koi was running for his life.

He leaped over a decaying log, huffing a breath that he hoped no one heard. The chittering behind him was gaining, abnormal shrieks of fury almost tearing his eardrums apart. What was it with this damned forest being the most annoying place on the Earth?

Mud splattered against his face, tasted bitter on his tongue. The creature was somewhere in the trees, darkness hiding it, but dawn was fast approaching. Soon, he would have to face whatever the hell it was; he only caught a glimpse of a lobster tail and bunny ears. Koi could’ve easily lost it if he hadn’t been travelling all night.

Something glistened in the distance. He pushed his legs—heavy as lead—through the weeds towards a lake surrounded by cattails and wildflowers and more damn mud, the sun reflecting off the surface of the water. Without thinking much of it, he slid as quietly as he could into the lake, hoping it would mask his scent even just a little bit.

Not even ten seconds later, a shadow cast itself over the water, directly above him. His lungs felt as though they were being crushed under a two-ton boot, searing pain transferring up to his bloodshot eyes. Koi pulled himself closer to the wall of mud.

Little air bubbles fought their way through his lips and popped on the surface. The shadow twitched, but didn’t move. Fish wiggled past him, gave him the side eye like _What the fuck are you doing in our lake, you dumbass_ , and then swam away.

And in all honesty, he didn’t know. He’d been wandering the woods for the past few days, searching for the impossible. It was either that, or be decapitated (Loafa liked bloodshed, and lots of it). His kingdom was giving him one last chance—a mission— and he was clinging desperately to hope. Three days, and not one sighting of the black magic. Lots of mosquitos though.

The monster’s shadow finally moved. After a few more minutes, when Koi just couldn’t take the pressure building up behind his eye sockets any longer, he burst free from the water and heaved a gasp of air like it was his last. Grime smeared across his skin as he hauled himself to the grass, his nostrils burning.

It wasn’t safe, not yet, but Koi couldn’t help himself flopping against the cattails and breathing roughly into the early morning air. The sky was a warm orange and yellow, casting a subtle glow over the meadow he found himself in. Exhaustion hit him full force, like the hilt of a sword to the gut. His bottom lip trembled from the cold soaking itself into his bones.

Just as his eyes fluttered closed, something putrid and gooey dribbled onto his forehead, rolling down to his temple. He scrunched his nose and sluggishly wiped it away, but more still oozed, spreading to his hairline. Koi sat up, rubbed it away with the back of his fingerless gloves, and laid down again, squinting against the sunlight.

The sight that beheld him sent a jolt of adrenaline straight to his heart.

Needlelike teeth protruded from the jaws of a snapping turtle, whose flesh twisted up and into unnaturally scaled rabbit ears. They flopped down, brushing his now-pale cheeks, and his stomach pulsed in his throat.

“Oh gods,” Koi breathed, black eyes wide as saucers, “just what kind of fucked-up science experiment are you?”

The turtle-bunny-whatever the hell else mutant promptly smacked him with its lobster tail and sent him flying through the air. With a yell of anguish, Koi’s body ended up smashed against the bark of a grand willow tree, his limbs tangled up in vines as thick as a stick of chalk. A tsunami of dizziness and scorching pain overcame him. He hung off the ground three feet in the air, listening to the monster’s grunting from fifty feet away.

He barely saw it through the leaves, but it ambled its way over at the speed of a horse, despite its tortoise-shelled body. Koi thought he saw a glint of humor in its cat-like yellow eyes, if that was even possible.

His heart hammered painfully in his chest as he struggled, managing to twist himself up even more. And, okay, yes, being decapitated seemed like a painfully angsty and drawn-out death, but Koi would have taken it in a heartbeat over being _swallowed whole by some ninja-turtle wannabe_. Maybe not even swallowed; maybe it would tear him limb from limb with those toothpick-like teeth and— _why the fuck was he thinking about that and holy shit because it was ten feet away_ —

The monster’s long neck weaved through the greenery to reach him. Koi felt the vines tugging from up above, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before his soggy foot was in a gooey mouth. Just as the turtle’s jaws were about to clamp around his limb, he was ripped away from the monster and further up into the tree’s branches.

Koi let go of a shuddery breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“What just happened?” he questioned, still struggling against the vines that held him captive. They were thick and strong and would take a while to cut through, if he could even reach his knife.

A shadow out of the corner of his eye flickered, and then came a clicking sound much similar to the mutant’s language, reverberating through the air. It sent shivers down his spine and his mind into a frenzy. There was another one, and they were probably fighting over who was going to eat him.

The clicking and hissing halted all too soon, replaced by an eerie silence. Koi strained his ears to hear anything against the harsh breeze rustling his hair. He felt his clock _tick, tick, ticking_ away.

Another hiss, this one in dissatisfaction. Then, “You are lucky she was here, puny human.” He could tell the monster was speaking, if only for the whistly quality to its voice. “Next time, you will be quite a nice snack.”

Scraping up his confidence, he called back, “Next time, you will be the one in need of saving,” but all he received in return was a cackle loud enough to rattle his bones. _Thump, thump, snap_ and the monster waddled away, back into the woods in search of its next victim.

There was a single moment where he allowed himself to smile, successfully safe for now. Although, that safety included being tied up and stranded high in a tree, too far off the ground for him to be comfortable glancing down. It was safety, nonetheless.

The thick branch he rested on swayed from a new addition of weight, and his head instantly snapped up. Poorly filtered sunlight made it difficult to see anything besides a silhouette in front of him; there was a woman there, balancing perfectly on her bare feet.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

She ignored the question. “You scared him, idiot.”

At that, Koi couldn’t help the scoff of disbelief that left his lips. “ _I_ scared _him_? That _thing_ has been chasing me across the fucking woods for the last hour!”

“That _thing_ is the keeper of this forest, and you were unexpected. We haven’t had visitors for the last…fifteen years? Yeah.”

“Probably because it eats them all!”

“Only a few. He’s the reason no one ventures here.”

Koi wanted to yell at her _no, the_ witch _is the reason no one visits the damned forest_ , but he froze at the thought. “Who are you?” he asked once more, scrambling to connect the dots in his throbbing mind. “Show yourself.”

The woman slowly transferred to a lower branch just a foot away. Sunlight glowed against her flawless skin, exposing half her face and glimmering eyes that said it all. He could practically _see_ the magic seeping from her aura of confidence.

One word entered his mind: “Witch.”

She stilled, furrowing perfect eyebrows and having the gall to look _confused_ , almost _offended_. “What did you call me, you little rodent?”

Koi almost didn’t believe it, dared to think it was a hallucination of sorts from an estranged mushroom he ate earlier. In front of him stood the story, the myth, the legend that people feared the most out of anything. Sure, most stayed out of the woods because of the tale told to them as children, but there was always that lingering doubt of _what if_ in their minds.

It was true; it was _all true_. And if it was all true, then any minute now, he would die.

“Now for my questions,” the witch huffed, flicking his forehead to draw his attention. “Who are _you_ , and what the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t even try to hide it. “I’m here to kill you,” Koi said, and he was; he had a mission, one singular chance that could not go to waste. He wouldn’t fail his kingdom, not again.

Silence. (Surely, he was dreaming. The witch couldn’t be real; she just _couldn’t_ be. It was just a story.)

(She really was real.)

She laughed, gentle and pure and _obnoxious_. The sound would have been beautiful if Koi didn’t have his heart set on murdering her.

“What did I say that was even remotely funny? You will _die_ , witch.”

“No, I won’t,” she refused casually, as if this sort of thing happened to her every day. The witch leaned in so close that he could feel her breath tickling his nose. (It smelled minty.) “You’re not exactly in the position to be making threats, now, are you?”

Koi’s adrenaline spiked as he wrestled with the vines still wrapped around him. He couldn’t reach his knife, and there was no way to escape the tree without breaking both of his legs. The back of his head ached unbearably from his earlier impersonation of a flightless bird.

“Then what will you do with me? Kill me, like all the others before?”

The witch curled her lips into a frown and narrowed her eyes. “What the hell are you talking about, lunatic? I’ve never killed anyone.”

It was Koi’s turned to heave a sarcastic chuckle. “Lies. My village—my _kingdom_ —knows your sins. You lure us in with your beauty, make us trust you, hang us from trees. It stops _today_.”

“It never began,” she hissed, closing in on him once more. Koi was lifted by the collar of his dark shirt, inches away from her scowling face. Half was still shadowed, but what was visible had fury etched into her expression. A muscle in her jaw twitched, and her eyes—they had this magical spark to them that could ignite into a fire at any moment. “Your kingdom is full of idiots like you who don’t know anything. You rely on gossip to fuel your fear, when I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not a murderer, not like _you_.”

“I’ve never killed anyone either.”

“So what makes you think I’m a good place to start?”

Clenched his jaw, ground his teeth, gulped down the foul words he wanted to pitch at her. “ _You_ don’t know anything either. You’re just as arrogant and ignorant as I am.”

“So educate me, you ass.”

“No.”

“Fine.” Koi’s back hit the bark of the willow as she released him. “Then rot up here for all I care.”

“I won’t be the one to die at the end of this, witch.” One chance; one mission. He couldn’t mess it up, and he wouldn’t. “My kingdom will have your head.”

“Worry about your own head before anyone else’s; yours has a gash in it,” she muttered bitterly. Just when he thought she was about to leave him to die, the witch placed three apples in his lap and pursed her lips. “Eat those. I’ll be back later.”

With a few quiet foot-thumps against the branches, she was gone as quickly as she had appeared.

Koi glared at the fruit resting in his lap, both pleased with and loathing their presence. He could think of three valid reasons not to even have a sniff of them: she was a witch, they were poisoned, and he hated her fucking attitude. As if she was better than him. As if she cared about _nothing_ that anyone else said about her.

Koi sighed, wincing when the cut at the back of his head rested against rough wood. He had many chances to die today, and yet, there he was.

He _should_ have died. The witch _should_ have killed him, according to the stories. That doubt that had always lingered in the crevices of his mind resurfaced, reshaped, stored itself away again. A certain weariness grasped at the dark patches, twisted them up into a tight, discomforting pain that made him squeeze his eyes shut, wishing for sleep.

For the first time in years, the gods answered his prayers.

Wishing for dreams had become somewhat of a fruitless effort over the last four years, so at most Koi only asked for a darkness to float in. When his eyelids closed, he liked drifting off into a place where no one could snatch him, where the people of his kingdom couldn’t wrap their fingers around his throat, pull him down. Drown him. Sometimes the gods took pity and gifted him with a dreamless sleep.

It was not one of those times.

Koi imagined the hateful words of those in his kingdom swathing his neck like a cape, smothering him until the breath in his lungs smoldered with pain. His ribcage ached, and tears of fear streamed down his cheeks, down his chest, down his legs, and gathered at his feet. The puddle became enormous, and then he was drowning. Choked screams escaped his throat. They snickered at his struggles; he never really knew who.

Snot bubbled in his nose, and he didn’t know if it was from the cold, the rain, or maybe he hadn’t just cried in his nightmare. No more birds, no more bees, no more sunshine inconveniently in his vision. Just the rain pitter-pattering and sliding down his gaunt cheekbones. He would’ve been annoyed at his soaked clothes if he hadn’t already dunked himself in the lake earlier.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught diluted red flowing down his neck from his head, and he sighed long and loud and not-so-purposefully.

The apples had fallen from his lap. They had shattered to the ground below, and Koi thought maybe that was for the best, even though his stomach missed the company of the mushrooms he had eaten that morning. She poisoned them, he reminded himself.

But she had not taken either of his knives, and that was her first mistake.

 _His_ first mistake, however, involved falling out of a giant tree. The loving embraces of branches on the way down reminded him of hugs from his cousins. They even did the same _I’m going to make your insides concave now_ thing.

It was pure karma that he had face-planted into the splattered apple guts and mud, but he only spared a few seconds to dwell on it before moving on. Koi reached for where his knives had clattered to the ground next to him. The vines came undone easily after a few around his wrists and ankles snapped, and he stood shakily on his feet, leaning on the magnificent willow and being careful not to slip in the goop.

There was a sound that caused his ears to perk up. Beneath the howling of the wind, pounding of the rain, bellowing of the thunder, a mellow voice found its place. Something inside him stirred uneasily. Koi peeked through the vines of the tree, squinting out into the fading light of the evening.

And there she was.

Her hair cascaded down her back, long and dark and tangled, as she danced in the rain on her tip-toes. She clothed herself in a garment of leaves twined together by thin twigs, the skirt swirling as she twirled and bowed to her imaginary dance partner. Her smile, however small, was the equivalent of hundreds of thousands of suns, and although Koi could barely hear her song over the cry of nature, he knew—he just _knew_ —that her voice was equally as mesmerizing.

Koi stalked closer, blades hidden in his sleeves. As he neared, he noticed the how the rain ever so slightly just missed her skin, avoiding her all together. The witch had a certain elegance to her as she gave one final bow to a person that wasn’t there.

(He kind of wanted to offer to dance with her, but the silver pressed sharply into his skin, and he was reminded once again of his duty to his kingdom, and to himself.)

When the witch’s eyes were finally drawn to him, she straightened her posture and scowled, but it morphed into a sour smirk.

The first words for which she spoke, “You look like a drowned rat.”

It was his turn to scowl. “Yeah, well who the hell dances in the rain by themselves? Gonna get pneumonia, idiot.”

“I do.”

“No shit.” 

“Aw, do you care about me?” she teased.

Koi exhaled a shuddery breath, holding back the urge to cough, and slipped the blades out from his sleeves. The hilts were even in his grip; they felt nice. Like he was in control, but about to lose it. “Quite the contrary, actually,” he taunted.

The witch dug her feet into the earth, and that obnoxious laugh came bubbling up to the surface again. Koi fought against the flutter of his stomach—it was the truth of the story. She had lured him with her song, and now he was here, and he was starting to fall right in her clutches. He refused.

“Bring it on, you little gremlin.”

It was almost (no, it _definitely_ was) embarrassing how quickly it was over. Koi barely advanced a step and she was already there, punching him in the gut and then swiping his feet out from under him. His green hair whipped into his face and his back ached from the fall.

The witch stood over him, gaze unimpressed with his shaky form climbing back onto his feet. She pressed a warm hand to his chest and easily pushed him over into a heap of exhaustion. Taking the blades from his twitching fingers, she tossed them deep into the woods and then crouched beside his writhing body.

She poked his cheek. “You fucking suck. All bark, no bite.”

He fell asleep once again.

When he came to, he could tell from the position of the sun that it was the next day, maybe around noon.

Mud crusted between his toes and behind his earlobes. Koi lifted a hand to his eyes to block out the annoyance of light, and was surprised to feel a cloth bound expertly around the crown of his head. A quick pat down of his body confirmed that he was indeed wearing no clothes, but his shirt was draped casually over his lower half.

Mortified, he only just managed to register the figure beside him a few seconds too late.

“If I said it once, I said it a thousand times. You fucking _suck_.”

“And you swallow.”

The witch pinched his nose, covered his mouth and didn’t let go until Koi’s skin successfully changed into a lovely purple hue.

“Witch,” he gasped with a withering cough. “I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah, you tried that yesterday. Didn’t exactly work out.”

Koi eyed her skeptically, glancing down to the bruises and cuts littering his pale skin. His ribs stuck out sharply and his legs were so thin that he doubted they would hold him up any longer than a few minutes. It was a miracle he had even lasted this long.

“Who the hell attends to their enemy’s wounds?” he muttered, glancing to the side. The witch twisted a lock of dark hair around her fingers, perfectly content to rest beside him among the cattails.

“We don’t get many visitors,” she said simply. “You may be a rat, but you’re—interesting, I guess. I’ll keep you around for a little longer.” The grin that lit up her face was wicked. “Who knows, maybe we’ll become _bestest-fwends_.”

Last straw. Using all of his remaining strength, he latched onto her wrist and flung her into the clear sparkling water in front of them. Koi’s weak attempt to hold her under failed when her hands came up to the surface and she dug her nails into the flesh of his wrists. He yelped and pulled back. Her head popped up above the surface.

They evened glares with each other.

“Who’s the drowned rat now?”

There was a silent agreement between them, something that Koi didn’t take very lightly. He sometimes didn’t sleep, expecting the monster’s needlelike fangs to sink into him at the witch’s beck and call. Surprisingly, he hadn’t so much as glimpsed the mutant in weeks.

It became a routine, their daily entertainment of trying to kill each other. The ways varied—he would either sneak up on her, start with a casual conversation and then pull out a knife, or just dive headfirst into a brawl.

Not once, in a month, had he won. Not even close. She would beat him within an inch of his life and he would wake up beside the lake, bruised and bandaged with a pile of apples sat next to him.

(He rolled them away into the thicket and spent the rest of the day wondering what the fluttering in his gut was about.)

After that month of non-stop blood loss, he rearranged the schedule a little bit.

Some days he scavenged for food, while others he dedicated to watching her, trying to find a weakness of some sort to use against her in their next squabble. Although, sometimes he became swept up in the way she fiddled and braided her hair, or the gentle touch she provided rabbits that nudged at her fingertips. She would sit them in her lap and whisper secrets that he couldn’t catch, brushing back their fluff and smiling.

(Fluttering in his gut. He labeled it as nausea.)

( _Was it nausea?_ )

One day, after a particularly bad bruise to his rib, she wrestled him down to the ground and threatened to break his wrists if he didn’t let her treat it. She was rather strong for being half a foot shorter than him.

Koi hadn’t ever been awake while she took care of him. To say the least, it was _weird_. He twisted and tore the grass around him in tiny shreds, trying to avoid the awkwardness of it all as she pulled out a tiny wooden box. It was filled to the brim with medical supplies, including herbs.

He observed as she took an assortment and grounded them up in a cup, adding water, mixed it up some more, and then held it up to his lips. He leaned away, and her perfectly shaped eyebrows sloped down.

“Here you bitch-baby, drink it.”

“How do I know it’s not poisoned?”

The witch scoffed. “I think I would know if it was poisoned. This is what I give you almost every time.”

“You—give me medicine?”

“Yeah, so what?”

He glanced away, scratching at his cheek. “Just didn’t expect it,” he muttered. Maybe she was lying? Still, the ache of his rib started to flow across his abdomen, and the pain convinced him that maybe it was worth the risk. “Thank—oomph!” She had quickly shoved a spoonful into his mouth when it was wide enough. The taste wasn’t as bitter as he was expecting.

She forced him to take the rest of it, then dunked a rag into the lake water and pressed it against the rib. The cold grappled with the pain, eventually making it fade to a dull throb.

They sat there in silence; tension threaded the air. Koi couldn’t take it any longer.

“How old even are you?”

The witch paused in braiding a tiny portion of her hair to think. “About fifteen…thousand, give or take.”

He gawked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Is that why you’re such an asshole? You’re literally just a grumpy old hag.”

“And you’re a brat.”

She flicked his side, and he only regretted his words until the pain in his rib dwindled away for a second time.

Silence enraptured them once again, and he forced himself to spit out a sentence that had nagged at his brain ever since the first week there. “I don’t know your name.”

The sun was finally setting, casting a warm glow over the whole meadow, including the witch. Koi couldn’t stop staring, waiting for the usual magical twinkle in her eyes, marveling at her wicked brilliance when the pain in his limbs diminished into nothingness.

Admiration stained his vision, something he had only ever thought of about Loafa. This time, though, it seemed different.

In a voice like honey, she answered, “It’s Val.”

As he studied her features a little more, realization dawned on him.

“And yours?” she asked.

“Koi.”

He couldn’t kill her, and not just because he couldn’t beat her.

Slowly but surely, the fighting stopped. Val never asked why.

Not until the last day of August.

He avoided her. Shunned her when she tried to start a conversation, hid behind trees when she visited the lake, even dived into thorny bushes when she was walking the same trail in the woods as him. It was beginning to seem a little extreme.

(Extreme, but necessary.)

If he were to go back to his kingdom empty-handed, the queen would order his execution. Koi wasn’t sure if he had some sort of time limit to bring the witch, but he was positive that he wasn’t ready to die. At least, not yet.

Val caught him after his weekly dip in the lake, pulling his ragged black shirt back over his form. Koi didn’t see her at first, considering the darkness of the sky, but as he was pacing back to the great willow tree that he usually slept in, he couldn’t help but notice her outline beside it.

She stepped into the moonlight, arms crossed over her chest.

Koi knew he was in trouble.

“What the hell is up with you?” she snapped, taking another step closer. He stepped back one to reaffirm the distance.

“What do you mean?” he asked half-heartedly.

“We don’t talk anymore, we don’t fight anymore, I haven’t seen you all day—” another step— “are you leaving?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“It’s none of your business,” he barked. “Why do you care? We don’t even know each other.” _I literally tried to kill you_. 

Val seemed—sad. Hunched into herself, and glancing away. “I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong. I’m just hiding here until I accept my death.”

“Your death?” she asked, stunned. “Why are you going to die? Why did you have to kill me?”

He ignored her. “I’ll tell them there’s no witch, so they don’t come looking for you.”

“There _is_ no witch.”

“Then what the fuck do you think you are?”

It was her turn to ignore the question as she repeated, “Why did you have to kill me?”

“A mission! Okay, it was a mission from my queen, to redeem myself. And I failed, and now I die.”

“But why—”

“A KING!” Koi screamed in her face, gripping her elbows tightly as her eyes widened to the size of saucers. (She was going to pull away; he didn’t want her to go.) He rested his spinning head on her shoulder. Then, softer, “I was a king.”

Val’s hands wandered from his sides, up his arms, and down his back. She patted soothingly against his shoulders, letting him catch his breath. There was a faint gathering of cicadas droning on in the distance. Koi was ready to give up his heart to the queen, if it could just stop the memories infiltrating his mind. He would accept the battering of the century if it could just make them _go away_.

“I was a king, and I messed up.”

She pulled away—just as he’d feared—but then kept a tight hold on his shoulders.

“And I was a goddess.”

Val wouldn’t let him speak until they sat down, huddled against the bark of the grand willow tree.

“How—”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now.”

So, he kept his mouth shut, and waited for her to go on. It took a while, to where his patience was wearing thin and he was about to start spewing out questions left and right. Because while he may have been a king, she was a _goddess_? He almost didn’t believe her, but then he thought about her eyes, about that magical confidence she carried with her everywhere she walked, and it was suddenly so much more difficult to protest what she had told him.

“I’m a hamadryad now—a nymph, tied to this tree—” Val knocked on the wood of the beautiful willow behind her; it suited her, Koi couldn’t help but think— “so when it goes, I go. It won’t die until something kills it though.”

“So,” he breathed, “definitely not a witch?”

A goofy smile found its way onto her lips. “Not a witch.”

“…I think I’ll stay here a little longer.”

“I knew you would. I’m too amazing to pass up.”

_Autumn_

“Where are you taking me?” Koi asked, but Val was too busy leading him like a lovesick puppy on a leash. He silently blamed her as he continuously tripped over roots sticking up out of the ground.

The chilly October wind ruffled his hair and teased his cheeks until they were a ripe cherry red; he held a basket to his chest—every so often, a berry would fall out, and he huffed a sad sigh to see them left behind on the ground. Val wouldn’t let him stop to pick them up. Her basket had even less than his, but that wasn’t because of her recklessness; she had left him to do most of the harvesting earlier.

Leaves crunched beneath their bare feet, but their toes were too numb to feel anything but a tickle of soft soil. He was almost positive that he had stepped on a few scattered thorns and that they were nailed into his toe-pads.

To his dismay, Val had protested his hulking boots— _You can’t pick berries in those_ , she had said, _you’ll step on everything_ —which resulted in him running away, into a forest that she knew like the back of her hand from fifteen thousand years of experience. It had taken her less than ten minutes to find him and steal a shoe. He had thrown the remaining one at her with a childish pout.

She tossed them in the lake, where she said they would make fabulous homes for the fish.

Val slowed to a mindless stroll and turned back to him with a wicked grin. “Close your eyes,” she demanded, and he didn’t hesitate. With her guidance and him walking like a newborn deer—careful and unsure—he came to a safe halt about forty paces later.

“Okay.”

A ladder weaved with the patterns of his basket swayed in front of him. Val already had her foot planted in the tenth rung, and she stuck her tongue out at him from up above.

“Are you gonna get up here or what, rat?”

He scowled, taking the opportunity to rustle the ladder and have her swing in a circle. She punted a berry at him, and he caught it in his mouth.

Koi had not taken into account that the ladder had actually _led_ somewhere, and so instead of being awed at the sight of a cushioned treehouse, he was absolutely dumbfounded. It was irritating the way Val burned holes into the side of his head with a stare that said _yeah, I know it’s the shit_.

Everything was wooden and twined together with hundreds of twigs, just as the nymph’s leafy garments were. A box, more or less, but it was a giant box with four windows and curtains.

Settling beside her in the sea of frayed and thinning blankets, he asked, “Where’d all the cloth come from?”

“Old clothes.”

“Old, goddess-clothes?”

She nodded, and he made the wise decision of not pushing for anymore information. They had both gotten into the nasty habit of clamming up when either mentioned their pasts, no matter who had brought them up. It seemed easier to just inch around the topics as if their lives depended on it and carry on with their days.

Sunlight filtered through cracks in the wooden planks, thawing his blue toes off. A neat row of freshly-harvested pumpkins and squash were placed on the sill across from them. 

“I miss Halloween.”

“What’s that?”

Koi did a double take, and it was only when he managed to remind himself that she had been couped up in the woods for _fifteen thousand years_ that he could answer.

“It’s a…holidays of sorts. People dress up, hold costume parties and give candy out to children. When I was king—” he faltered, but she gave an encouraging nudge for him to go on— “a few years ago, I would dress up as something scary to terrorize the kids, and give extra candy to the ones that weren’t scared. Little brats loved it.”

“I doubt you’d needed to dress up for that.”

For that, the penalty was an automatic cushion to the face. Val didn’t let him get away with it though, and instead pressed her ice-cold feet under his shirt—he squealed like a small, small child.

They stayed liked that for a while. He held her ankles to prevent any more incidents, and she leaned her head against a tower of cushions he half-expected to slip out from under her.

He was content to let his eyes droop, and didn’t even fight against what he knew was going to be a restless slumber.

For the first time in years, he slept peacefully.

No nightmares, no darkness, no floating. He dreamt of a bunny nuzzling his face, snuffling at his ears and cuddling his hands. Koi allowed himself to smile.

When he awoke—with no gasps, no trembling, no cold sweat or tears— his head rested in the lap of the ex-goddess. She caressed her petite fingers through his greasy green strands, humming a tune so soft and warm his heart melted, just a little.

“Where is that from?” Koi grumbled. He didn’t sit up; she didn’t stop playing with his hair, and he thought that maybe it would be okay to just stay like that forever. Val’s dark eyes fluttered open momentarily before closing once more, a smile hinting at the corners of her lips. Koi obsessed over her smile, definitely more than he would ever admit. The stray sketches on loose parchment paper laughed at him, because no matter how many lines he traced trying to copy it, he could never get it right. So he had to hoard all the little moments like these, hug them close to his heart, trap them deep inside and never let go.

(He really, _really_ liked her smile.)

“His name was Ricky Montgomery,” she whispered, and he fought against the lull of sleep just to hear her voice, “and he was absolutely wonderful.”

“Who was he?”

“A musician for the gods.” Then, as an after-thought she added, “My sister hated him.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah, she got tired of him after the first few songs, but I was never bored.”

“What was that song—the one you were just humming?”

Her eyes twinkled in the dim afternoon sunlight. “My favorite. He called it ‘Line Without a Hook’ I think.”

“Sing it for me,” he begged dramatically, laying the back of his hand against his forehead. Val flicked him on the nose, but gave in to his half-assed pleading anyway. His cheeks ripened a cherry red, but it was no longer from the nip of the wind.

_Winter_

_Click, click, click, click_. Heels against the cold tiles of the hallway floor. Someone’s shadow darkened the doorway of an enormous bedroom with red walls and deep purple bedding. There were rumors about the walls of Loafa’s quarters—the servants liked to gossip and say that so much blood had been spilled in the room, it was no use scrubbing it away.

A woman sat at a desk that covered the width of the room, stretching from end to end. War plans and maps scattered the surface, red ink scritch-scratching the paper in patterns barely to be interpreted.

Loafa was low on patience these days, especially with the other kingdoms breathing down her neck. They wanted to form alliances, sign treaties, create trading deals, when all she wanted was to be _left alone_. Now, the deal with Koi stood at the top of her responsibilities list, and her nerves frazzled themselves even more. Irritation clung to her like burrs hooked into cloth.

“Where is he?”

The shadow at the doorway shifted from foot to foot, glancing around the room. A dog cowered in the corner, and the figure wondered how it hadn’t relieved itself yet.

 _Meow_. A kitten, hidden behind a foot-tall stack of papers on the desk. The figure eyed it warily, wondering briefly what a scene it would cause if those papers were to just—

“Well?” Loafa snapped, and the cloaked person bowed slightly before answering.

“We’ve been searching, but he still hasn’t turned up,” they reported.

“Then where the fuck is he?”

Loafa kicked at her desk with her heavy boots. There were dents and splintered, uneven holes from previous times when there was just too much to deal with and sort out—she just couldn’t keep her shit together. The wall behind the desk hadn’t fared much better, nor had the other walls around. (Or her bedposts with sword marks, tiled floors scuffed with fire, wardrobe with its handles torn off.)

(Another rumor, one that stated her boots were always black so no one could see how _used_ they were. How much blood had stained them.)

“Perhaps he really did find the witch,” the cloaked figure suggested calmly, used to Loafa’s anger by now. Years working as her advisor and assistant could do that to a person. “Maybe he’s dead.”

“The witch isn’t real. She’s just a fable to scare children into listening to their parents.”

“If you say so.”

A ball of paper flicked out from the uneven piles that surrounded the grumbling Loafa; it only missed her advisor’s face by inches.

“Don’t speak to me with that tone.”

“I apologize.”

“Whatever.” She sighed, her chair scraping against the familiar scratch marks of the floors over years of wear and tear. “If that’s the only place you haven’t checked, round up another search party. Bigger than the other ones. Go around the forest and search south to north, so that if he _is_ in there, he can only run towards the kingdom.”

“That’ll take months—”

“Just do it,” Loafa growled. “It’ll give him the chance to come clean. You’d think since he was king for two years that he would know the witch isn’t _real_. Apparently, he’s one to believe in _fairy tales_.”

“If I may ask, why did you send him on a wild goose chase?”

“I wanted to see if he would come back, but it seems like he’s too much of a pissbaby to own up to his faults.”

“Seems reasonable.”

Loafa responded with slamming her fists against her desk.

“I want him found!” she roared. The kitten yowled from the shout, _bolting_ down from the desk to scamper under the bed for protection. The advisor couldn’t help but think that she most definitely had the right idea. That dog in the corner glanced over at them with bored eyes as if to say, _you get used to it_. The advisor wondered why these animals were smarter than half the kingdom.

Another pounding on the wood. “Phoebe get back here.”

“She’s scared,” they supplied simply, but Loafa waved them off.

“My cousin has a lot of explaining to do, and I better like what he has to say. For _his_ sake. Now go do us all a favor and bathe that monkey of yours.”

The advisor glanced down through the shadows of the hood to the baby orangutan attached and practically hanging off their side, small face hidden in the material of their cloak.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

They were kissing. For a few moments, he savored the warmth, but then he pulled back with a dreadful panic. “Wait, is this okay, I didn’t ask—” When she pressed her comforting lips against his to assure him, he let himself relax once more, and scooted ever closer.

It was the first day of December, which also happened to be the first official day of winter if the snow had anything to say about it. A soft blanket of white flurries sparkled over the meadow.

Little puffs of white swirled in the air as they pulled away, and Val laughed that obnoxious laugh Koi had learned not to mind so much anymore.

She ruffled his hair with a slow grin, and specks of white came floating into his vision. Koi had done well to know her smiles by now, and by the gut-wrenching feeling flowing through his veins, he knew this one was a smile that stretched her lips when she was sad.

“What’s the matter?”

“I stay in my tree and sleep during winter.”

“Like a squirrel huh—or wait, a chipmunk! They’re smaller.”

“Oh gods, _no_.” Val stood, brushed off the dress that Koi had sewn her out of extra fabric she had laying around in the treehouse.

(She’d been ecstatic, he reminisced sweetly, when he showed it to her with a sheepish grin. He’d dabbled it sewing when he was a king, but the dress definitely wasn’t his best. The material was worn and had square patches just barely holding on.)

“Can’t you stay with me, just for today? I can show you what I—what we did in my kingdom, for fun during winter.”

She pondered over it for a second, swiveling around to stroke the bark of the old willow behind her. Its vines of white brushed her shoulders and clung to her like a magnet attracted to metal. The willow missed her, he guessed.

“Okay,” Val finally decided. “Just for a few hours though. I usually connect with my tree way before all—this.” She gestured with her arms the meadow, and kicked the snow at her feet up in the air. A small bit landed in her hair. “What is this?”

So, his first reaction to such a question might not have been the _best_ , but he couldn’t exactly take back pelting her in the face with a hefty snowball. Val spluttered momentarily, and while he still had the opportunity to live, he _ran_.

He howled in surprise when she tackled him, smushing his face into the snow and shoving some down the collar of his shirt.

“It’s snow,” he finally snorted out when he was finished dancing to shake the cold out of his bones. “And it’s very cold.”

She tossed a snowball. It hit him in the face.

“I _know_ that. I was just wondering what humans call it, you little rodent.”

He chortled in response.

That shimmering morning had to have been the best Koi had experienced in four whole years. He introduced the ex-goddess to the concept of snowball fights, snow forts, snowmen, and snow angels, and she had taken to them like peanut butter to chocolate.

(You’re already an angel though.”

“Shut _up_ , rat.”

“Your dumbass didn’t even know what snow was.”)

Val stayed with him until her lips changed to a cotton candy blue and she couldn’t wiggle her toes. Icicles _clink-clinked_ together when the vines of the willow tree swayed in the chilly breeze. A growing desperation grew in Koi’s chest, so he engulfed her in his homemade, comically patched winter coat, and embraced her in a long hug. He wasn’t about to admit that he would miss her, but she could see it. See right _through_ him.

“You won’t get lonely,” Val chuckled, “you’ll have the bunnies for company.” As if she was performing a magic trick, she produced a soft white hare in her arms and offered it to him. Well, _shoved_ it at him, but he didn’t complain at its soft fluff.

“I have to go now.”

“I know.”

“Take care of the woods.”

“I know.”

“Don’t scare the keeper again.”

“I _know_ , Val.”

“ _Okay_ , Koi.”

Val tugged his head down by his frayed black collar, reaching up on her tip-toes to gently peck his cheek. And he just—he was just— _puddy_ in her grasp. There had to have been steam puffing out of his ears the way his whole face sizzled. Koi almost dropped the bunny.

Then, with one last wave, she stepped _into_ the tree. No door, no warning; she was just—gone. Koi slapped himself before he could faint.

The bunny in his arms began fidgeting too much for either of them to be comfortable, so he set it free and it took off into the thicket without any hesitation.

“It seems I just missed her,” a voice rasped.

Koi whirled around, and the keeper of the forest was only inches from his face. He startled back, already reaching for a branch above his head to climb onto, but the keeper whispered a few words in its native language of _clicks_ and _clacks_ and paced back a few steps.

Tentatively, Koi crossed his arms and stood tall. Compared to the monstrosity in front of him, however, he was a mouse to its elephant.

“Val said not to scare you.”

The keeper ignored him in favor of ripping something from its tortoise-shell back, plopping it down in front of his feet. Blood splattered and soaked through the pure white of the snow, and from its source was an unmoving doe. Her back legs were fractured, eyes glazed over with a blank stare.

A tasty winter meal, if saved properly.

“What happened to me being the snack next time?” he sneered, but once again he was ignored. The keeper swung its lobster tail around, just nearly missing him, and waddled away with a familiar _thump thump snap_.

Among the whistles of its toothpick teeth, he could’ve sworn he heard something along the lines of, “Fuck you.”

Only the first day of December, and Koi was about ready to strangle the groundhog for an early spring.

_Spring_

The ground became thick with mud again, and Koi was most definitely not amused.

An overpowering scent of jasmine and lavender watered his eyes as soon as Val morphed out of her willow tree, which was already full of bright pink blossoms. A delicate crown of petals arranged itself around the folds of her dark hair.

She still appeared as if she wanted to go back and stay for another month’s long nap, eyelashes drooping down and hiding the twinkle he’d looked forward to all winter long. So, Koi took the initiative and decided to finally do something helpful.

He threw her in the lake and quickly cannon-balled in after her.

Twenty minutes filled with squealing laughter, and they settled in a flowerbed in full bloom. She slouched behind him, hell-bent on taming his snarled hair, braiding in yellow buttercups that stood out against the green.

Pin-pricks stung every time he jostled the bandages wrapped around his fingers. Val wore the dress he’d slaved on over winter to sew; it was a much more complicated design than his previous failure. Patterns of wisteria buds littered the hem of the white skirt, and vines crawled through the lace of the pink top.

He’d also taken the liberty to fix his own clothes, donning a slightly tattered black shirt and cargo pants. His shoes had been unmendable after sleeping with the fish.

Val tugged slightly on a lock of his hair, sending a tingle down his spine, and he reached behind to poke her in the side.

“What?”

“Did you want to hear more about the gods?”

Koi swiveled around in the soft soil, taking her tiny hands in his. “Yes, of course.”

She seemed to have been trying to find the right words to string into a sentence, so Koi let her be and gave her time without getting too impatient. He figured they had all the time in the world to talk over such things.

“They thought my sister was copying me, trying to overtake my position as the Goddess of Beauty, Courage, and Art.”

“What was she gonna be the goddess of?” he asked.

Val shook her head somberly, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I never found out. She requested it privately, and one of the other gods didn’t like what she had to say, so they removed both of us from our positions.” She took in a deep, broken breath and blew it out slowly. “I hadn’t ever seen my sister that upset before.”

“So,” he urged gently, “what happened next?”

“They picked new goddesses, and we were tossed aside and banished to Earth. It was like we never existed,” Val whispered, and Koi pulled at her bottom lip from where it was caught in between her teeth, gnawing until it bled. “I haven’t seen her since.”

“What was her name?”

“What _is_ her name,” she corrected. “I know she’s alive. Probably doing great just to spite them up there.”

He chuckled. “Right, well, what _is_ her name?”

“Tee.” She smiled; his breath hitched. “Her name is Tee.”

Koi could sense the growing sorrow practically radiating off of her in tidal waves, so he tried his very best to kiss it all away. He knew that forgetting was never an option, but the least he could do was give her something sweet to remember.

He hugged her until they couldn’t hug anymore, because she was smiling too widely and cackling too loudly to breath properly.

_Summer_

(He knew.)

(Koi knew, from the moment Val’s hand flew up to her chest, rubbing a tight circle over her heart as she stumbled into his open arms.)

His brows furrowed, he asked, “What’s wrong?” The answer that tumbled from her lips curdled his blood.

“The keeper of this forest, he’s dead.”

“What? How?”

“Someone’s killed him.”

(His kingdom had sought him out, and they reeked with the stench of death.)

There was no time to mourn for the keeper who had so graciously taken care of him over the cold months. Koi heard them before he saw them, the hoofbeats of horses and a dreaded creaking of a carriage. It couldn’t have been Loafa—she wouldn’t have wasted time on him like that, even if she wanted to see his face before he died—but he supposed she sent someone in her stead.

“Hide,” he hissed, pushing Val towards the woods. She only listened partially, leaping into the branches of the willow he had grown so accustomed to.

They were upon him within seconds, the many faces of a familiar army he had guided less than four years ago. The general popped up at the head of the crowd, handlebar mustache dripping with sweat. Koi grimaced.

“What do you want?”

Mustache took a chunk of his hair easily in his grip, pulling him closer. His breath was sour, filled with an odor of onions and pickles, food fit for a road trip.

It seemed the queen had been looking for him for a while.

A cloaked figure stepped out of the coach, face shadowed by a hood. Something screeched from the window behind them—a monkey of sorts.

“You’re coming with us, street rat,” the general whispered in his ear, still loud enough for the soldiers around to hear.

Branches rustled and Val’s voice shook with the pain of years alone.

“No!” she yelled, landing in a crouch after jumping down from the willow. Panic swelled in Koi’s throat. (What—what was she doing; she couldn’t challenge them; he couldn’t lose her; he wanted to hold her; she needed to hide, hide, hide, hide, hide.) Murmurs erupted from the soldiers.

“Val,” he croaked, “no—”

Like a net cast out into the sea of voices, it caught one singular word.

“Witch.”

From the general’s mouth. A hush came over the crowd.

 _Witch_.

 _What a horrible word_.

Koi didn’t have any time to react, to say something, to warn her, to _save_ her, before they were at her sides, pinning her down. Even Val’s skills in the art of battle were no match for brute strength. She kicked and flailed, but they picked her up and would not let her go, scorching her beautiful skin with the ropes for which they bound her wrists and ankles.

They could’ve picked any tree—any tree, there was a whole fucking forest out there, couldn’t they see that?—but they chose her lovely willow to tie her to. She thrashed around and made them bleed while Koi struggled with his own guards.

A gold-trimmed knife slashed at their skin, but they had armor, and Koi had shed his a long, long time ago.

“Wait—” the cloaked figure protested, but one of the soldiers pushed them aside and locked them up in the carriage. The monkey bounced around and banged on the windows, but it was already too late.

Flames.

Red, orange, yellow, flickering in a harsh wind of blurry voices and tears.

Val, for the first time since he had met her (a year ago, today. _Today_.), had fear flashing in her eyes.

She was wearing the dress he had sewn for her. The first one, with all the patches.

(“I like them,” she had said. “They give it character.”)

Everything was too fast. _Too fast_.

“Koi! KOI!” Val shrieked. “I love you!”

And if these were the last words she ever heard from him, or the last words he ever spoke, then so be it.

“VAL!” he screamed, so that all could hear him. “I love you so much! I love you; I love you! VAL!”

With a wispy grey smoke that floated to the sky, the twinkle had gone.

They left him to kneel in the ashes of a fallen tree, and he understood now why it was called a weeping willow.

The orangutan was freaking the fuck out, and so was the queen’s advisor. They had returned to the kingdom within just a few short days, the men boasting about their victory while the figure in the hood sat—horrified, absolutely horrified—in the carriage with their pet.

The men had claimed they distinguished the fear of many children on that fateful day, but the advisor knew that they couldn’t be any more incorrect.

No sleep, not a wink.

A cold bite stung their bones—despite the humid summer air— as they paced down the long hallways to the queen’s quarters. What had to be said left their mouth dry, but there was no time to quench their thirst, because they were already at the gigantic wooden door.

And behind it? Who knew?

It was the one time in their life when the advisor found themself believing the rumors spread by the castle maids.

Without knocking, they opened the door with a menacing squeak on its hinges, and entered. Queen Loafa glanced up briefly from the papers surrounding her desk. More holes scattered the room, some that had been there for years the advisor was just taking notice of.

Before the queen could brush away a coil hanging low in her eyes and ask just what the fuck was going on, the advisor spluttered, “The witch is real,” and from there the story tumbled from their lips.

They spun the tale with such precision, such accuracy, such pain (for Koi, for the witch, for themself—for those fifty-something soldiers, who had no idea what was coming to them) that by the time they were finished, the queen was almost speechless.

Almost.

“Where are they?”

“In the Great Hall, celebrating,” the advisor whispered shakily.

“Tell them to get their asses down to the arena, and gather my personal guard.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” With that, her advisor made a swift exit, and left the queen alone in the grand room. She opened a drawer of her polished mahogany desk, and slid a knife out of its gold-trimmed sheath. It was one half of a pair; Koi treasured the other one.

Everyone knew that Loafa liked violence, and lots of it, but if there was one thing she absolutely hated, it was disobedience.

Koi lived in his own fucking nightmares.

He hadn’t moved in days and didn’t think he ever would, didn’t think he ever wanted to again. Nausea built up in his throat, and he glanced over at the soil to his left, where he had last relieved the bile just an hour ago. There was a pulsing in the back of his head that wouldn’t go away; it shielded all his thoughts except one:

 _It’s my fault_.

It was, truly.

A plethora of _what ifs_ ran around in his mind, screamed at him to get up, get mad, do _something_. He couldn’t, so he sat, and stared, and scooped up handfuls of ash to sift through his fingers.

(It was soft, like her skin, but that was a creepy, eerie, uncomfortably agonizing thought that he bit down with the vomit.)

The meadow, for the first time since he had stepped in it, had a thrumming silence that stirred an old emotion in his gut. One that he thought he had left behind ages ago.

(She had soothed it back in a place where its claws couldn’t dig and tear at every inch of his conscious.)

Guilt.

Out with the new, in with the old.

Koi didn’t notice the royal wagon rolling onto the beaten path between trees. His ears twitched slightly, but he didn’t bother to look their way. He knew who it was, how she had come to gloat and to put him into a permanent sleep.

He was thankful, if anything, that he could end at the hands of another instead of his own.

Loafa’s hefty black boots came to rest on his right, crushing a wilting dandelion that he would have plucked at anyway. An animal of some sort cooed a few feet away, the only sound within the confounds of the ring of trees.

(Almost ring, he reminded himself.)

“Koi.”

He refused to lift his head.

“Koi.”

No.

“Koi.”

“What the fuck do you want?” he spat.

“I want you to look at me, damn it.”

After a few seconds of reluctance, he did as she asked. Regret flashed in his eyes, however, when he analyzed the soft look his cousin gave him. Loafa was never soft—never. A hole in his stomach widened, like the stories of bottomless pits that Val had told him about.

An increasing ache in his joints became prominent when his eyes caught the color of her clothes.

Funeral attire.

How fucking appropriate.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Koi, it’s wasn’t your—”

Three seconds. That’s all it took for him to be on his feet, blade pressed sluggishly to her throat. There was no real threat; he knew it, she knew it, her advisor and three guards with fingers just brushing the hilts of their swords knew it. He uttered by her ear, “Don’t tell me that it wasn’t my fucking fault. Please, just kill me.”

She punched him, and he was sent stumbling back onto his knees. The three guards paced closer, but Loafa held up her hand.

One soldier leading the pack—a porcelain mask hiding his features—protested, “But, Your Grace—”

“Enough,” she snapped, drawing her own knife. Koi glanced up into her collected gaze. His eyes dipped to the blade, and he smiled without humor.

One pair, finally united.

They lunged at each other without mercy. If they attacked like this—with such ferocity— a year ago, Koi most definitely would have accepted a swift defeat, but it wasn’t a year ago, and Loafa was not as sneaky as Val had been.

( _Had been_. His insides twisted.)

He cut her on the biceps and lightly towards the collarbone, and she nicked him at the temple and thigh. They stalked in a slow circle, two predators, their skin crawling with the itch to take out their aggression on _something_ , _anything_. Who better than each other?

The wounds stung, but not as much as Loafa’s pride when Koi suddenly had her pinned, knife once again to her throat. He had no intention of letting it go.

“They killed her.”

“I didn’t order them to.”

“They fucking _killed_ _her_.”

“And I killed them,” Loafa reassured, unmoving.

In the back of his mind, he knew he should have been thrilled that their blood was shed evenly, but he couldn’t help but think it didn’t really matter because—“She’s still gone.”

(She wasn’t dead. No; he refused that thought entirely.)

(She was just gone.)

(Just for a little while.)

(He wouldn’t cry in front of his cousin.)

“You can come back now.”

Koi sat up, away from her, and dropped the knife into the ash. He didn’t have the stomach to retrieve it.

“No,” he said. “I couldn’t—I didn’t—I can’t leave her. They wouldn’t want me anyway.”

“You chose to leave,” she countered. “Put all the pressure on me to continue, when they all fear me.”

“At least with you they’re safe,” he grunted.

He was partially aware of the prying eyes and ears eavesdropping. The guards with white glasses and a headband whispered amongst themselves while the advisor murmured to their baby orangutan and the masked man gripped his sword.

“You did something shitty, but—”

“All for a fucking painting.”

“Of your _parents_ —”

“I was such a coward, couldn’t even be bothered to care about everyone else.”

“Will you stop fucking interrupting me?” she hissed, slapping the back of his head. It _hurt_ , but he supposed that’s the least of what he deserved. “No one blames you, you know. Everyone still wonders where you are. They love you.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Yes, they do.”

“I don’t want their love, or their pity.”

( _I want Val_.)

“I would have almost given up the kingdom for a picture of my family too.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

“No, I wouldn’t have,” she repeated. “And you know why?”

Koi shook his head.

“Because I already have pictures of them—up here, now don’t give me that fucking look, I’m trying to have a moment with you.” He chuckled dryly, but his lips wobbled.

“Why is it that everything I love always ends up burning?”

Loafa was silent for that, and he was so exhausted from the previous nights staring up into an eternal darkness—his stream of hopes screamed out constantly in the starless sky—that he allowed himself to place his head in her lap. She froze up at first, but despite her touch never having been loving, she let him sob into her skirts and rubbed his back with a tender warmth he missed.

(He accepted that it was not the same as Val’s, but it was enough for now.)

Once the waterfall of tears concluded, the ache in his ribs reminded him that bruising easily was a habit in their bloodline, regardless of their often violent tendencies. If Loafa was even half as wounded as he was, then she needed medicine as well.

“I’ll be back.”

No one objected to his swift disappearance as he made a mad dash for the woods. A limp stalled his movement by a few seconds, but it didn’t take too long to reach the treehouse.

Koi hadn’t realized how many memories crawled around the area. Darts of nostalgia, straight through his heart.

(Val would race him up the ladder; they held contests for who could make the biggest piles of leaves; and oh, look, that’s their favorite place for harvesting mushrooms—) 

The first thing he noticed was the thick quilt of dust knitted over the wooden planks. An eerie silence hung in the air; a mixture of jasmine and strawberry milk tea wafted into his nose, and he held back the urge to topple over the pillows stacked up on top of each other, just the way she liked them.

He swiped the wooden box off the desk. Something else toppled over in the process, and while he normally wouldn’t have bothered with it, the stray sketches caught his eye.

They were of her eyes, of her nose, of her smile—that still didn’t quite capture it—but what surprised him the most was that there were sketches of him as well. Dozens upon dozens, some of just his face, some of him picking flowers—he was taking a nap in that one.

Koi held up a hand to his mouth to keep in a choked sob.

In full color—they danced in the rain, heads tipped back in raucous laughter because Koi had slipped and fallen on his ass.

(He remembered that night perfectly, clear as glass. She hadn’t let him live it down for _weeks_.)

He didn’t want to ruin the memories with his tears, so he tucked the papers neatly back into their proper places, and forced himself to climb down the ladder instead of throwing himself out the window.

When he returned with the medicine for his queen, she didn’t bother questioning his freshly wet cheeks that she had already dried, nor did she comment on the way he had rubbed his pale nose raw.

She accepted his treatment and stood on strong legs, unaffected by the pain of her injuries. Koi stayed kneeling, having no intention of leaving that particular spot for another day or two—or three or four or five. The cattails were no longer soft, and the sky no longer brightened, no matter the time of day.

“My offer for your place in court still stands.”

“I know.”

“Goodbye, cousin.”

“Bye.”

Queen Loafa swiveled on her heel, only pausing when her advisor hesitantly reached out a hand, tapping her shoulder. They offered their monkey.

“Ley,” the advisor whispered, “go with Aunt Loafa, okay?”

“I hate that name.”

Reluctantly, the orangutan obeyed and stretched her arms for the queen, carried off to the coach awaiting them. The cloaked figure remained standing still next to his kneeling form, quiet as a mouse.

“We were so close, but so far,” he caught them mumbling to themself, facing the ocean of black dust blanketing the earth. “If only I’d known, I would have gotten to slap you one more time.”

“Who are you?” he whispered, brushing his fingers along a branch that hadn’t completely withered within the fire. It cracked, even under such a delicate weight.

The advisor, silent but for a few words to their queen and monkey, ripped off their dark hood. Koi’s whole body stilled, and it was as though he was running for his life all over again, the liquid shock and adrenaline flowing through his veins.

“Val?”

It was not Val. It was _not_. Because for all the gods and goddesses of anything and everything, the ones for miracles had never been very good at their job.

The woman was identical to the one he thought he had lost, not even a week ago.

“I’m afraid not,” she said. With no Ley in her arms, they hung awkwardly at her sides. “I stayed to give you something.”

He still couldn’t believe who he was seeing step forward and place something in his hand, making sure he enclosed his fingers around it. Koi hung his head low to look down at the small velvet pouch, tipping it over into his other hand to have tiny dots tumble out, like specks of dirt.

The woman could tell he wasn’t catching on as quickly as she had wanted.

“Seeds.”

The grief that hindered his vision lessened, if just a little bit.

And what—there was this, this dull throb that wasn’t so painful anymore, deep in his chest where not even the blood-soaked tip of a spear could reach.

Hope.

Tiny, but absolutely unrelenting.

He liked it very, very much.

(Almost as much as Val’s stupid laugh.)

She turned her back on him, cloak swishing to mimic the queen’s skirts.

“Tee.”

She halted mid-step. Turned around, like she was shocked that he was talking to her. Her face was so like that of Val’s, it was tearing his chest apart. Still, he pushed those feelings aside and reminded himself, _two different people. Completely different. Separate. She’s not Val_.

“You know my name.”

He nodded, took a breath, and forced himself to ask, “What did you want to be the goddess of?”

Tee smiled, and relief bloomed in his ribcage. Because that was not Val’s smile. Was nothing like it. Val’s smile was something he knew not by memory, but by heart, by feeling, and seeing Tee smile did nothing to provoke that feeling.

Finally, she answered, “Laughter. Creativity. Love.” She cut herself off, pursed her lips. Koi noticed her fingers quickly brush past the corner of her eye. “The others up there—they didn’t believe that a god could want happiness for other gods, only for themselves. But I wanted to help her find love that wasn’t for her beauty, I wanted to make her laugh when she gathered enough confidence, and I always wanted her to have ideas for her next painting.”

It was as if someone had plunged a blade deep in his gut. His body was cold, numb, frozen in place with his heart struggling to go on. Completely hollow on the inside.

“Thank you.” His head snapped up to meet her gaze, confusion evident on his face. “She had all of that because of you, didn’t she?”

“I tried,” he shrugged, and she laughed. It was too blunt and rounded at the edges to be Val’s. Still. “Tee.”

“Yes?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

A pause, and her pupils contracted.

She saw him, right _through_ him.

“No, you may not.”

Gulping down the scorching bile that rose to his throat, Koi gave a steady nod and stood up on bare feet coated in ash. His knees wobbled.

“Very well then. Off you go.”

Tee dipped into a low curtsy—Koi wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic until she tutted a respectful, “Your Highness,” and climbed into the carriage.

Koi watched through the open window as Ley reached up to wrap her fuzzy arms around Tee, burying her head in her chest. The woman nuzzled back with just as much neediness. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and then they rained like meteors, each crashing down onto the fabric of her cloak and soaking it through.

He heard a sob like shattered glass once before the stagecoach trotted off, and he was left alone in the middle of the forest, with the love of his life right in the palm of his hand.

*

There was a tale told to children. A story, a myth, a legend, about a witch who lived in the forest, beloved by some, and hated by the rest. Those who dared to enter the woods were lured in by her beauty, her glorious melodies, and then pushed off the highest branch of a tree with a vine wrapped around their neck.

The children, however, doubted this story a great deal. Most thought it simply wasn’t true. They liked the one about the old willow man better.

There was another tale told to children—a newer one, spread by word of the queen, her advisor, and ever-faithful guard. A story, a myth, a legend about a king turned commoner, hated by most, but soon loved by one. He aged peacefully, deep in the woods, and his love only ever grew as a sapling he cared for inched along. When the willow tree finally sprouted its final centimeter, he was reunited with something he thought he had lost a long, long time ago.

Yes, the children liked that story much, much better.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry you had to read all that...mess. (A reminder that it takes at least 15 years for a willow tree to grow fully, so do with that what you will.)  
> Another reminder that this story was their personas and not actually THEM. This is a fictional depiction.


End file.
